By JOEKARL DIAZ
Even before we left Sydney for Papua New Guinea (PNG) the challenge started to creep up on us. Passport issues and a missing flight ticket gave us some concern a couple of hours before boarding time but faith, perseverance and support from friends kept us going and made this year’s GKY GAT to PNG something worth remembering.
Two years ago four of us went to PNG for the first GAT. We saw the GK village, lived the lives of the villagers in the bush and developed deep relationships with the people. Last year, I almost gave up when all the interested GATers had to abandon the plan due to individual difficulties until Geffin decided to go with me and Donabel decided to come as well just a week before we were due to depart. Therefore, I was very happy when six other people made a firm decision to go to PNG GAT this year, with Brian and Corina already committing last year.
In spite of the real difficulties and negative publicity about PNG, Libby, Lalaih, Rose and Annabelle, who had not been to a GAT in the Philippines, stepped outside of their comfort zones and paid for their flights and registration for PNG GAT. Somehow, the stories of the previous PNG GATers inspired these new ones to come, or maybe it was the lush mango season that I mentioned that made them want to come? Regardless, the experiences and stories of these new GATers and the relationships they developed, not just with the people of the GK village but also with those who worked for GK in PNG, were truly inspiring in their own flavours.
I remember asking Nestor how he found the strength to establish the GK village in Port Moresby in spite of the immense challenges and dangers he faced. His answer was the parable of the sower. That some of the seeds we sow may fall on footpaths, some on rocky ground and eventually some will fall on good soil. All we have to do is to keep on sowing and eventually people will listen, people will be inspired and people will act. You (the reader) will see from the personal stories of this year’s GATers the astounding love and change they experienced in this year’s PNG GAT that has already changed their lives and will remain with them forever.
I was proud of how the GATers took each activity, each day and each discomfort into their own pockets and marched on. There were times when I could sense their spirits diminishing from tiredness, with the darkness of the night, being wet from the rain, no fire and the torch battery running out and no more noodles to cook – when the strength of the spirit was almost gone, they battled through. Knowing that these challenges were minute compared to those experienced by the GK villagers and GK workers almost every single day they wilfully persevered. On the third day, I asked one of the girls if she wanted to use a proper toilet in a house I knew about 5 minutes walk away. She replied, “No, I’m ok”, and she continued walking onto the outhouse at night with a torch in hand.
We were farewelled by the GK villagers by way of traditional face-painting, speeches, bilums, necklaces, and of course, food. Uncle Joe Fish (one of the GK caretakers) told me, “Uncle, sorry we cannot go with you to the airport this time because the bus has no petrol.” I just calmly replied, “That’s ok uncle, we’ll just say goodbye to you all here in the village.” And so we left and embarked the plane and flew off to Sydney with the vibrant memories playing in our minds.
Two days later Uncle Joe Fish called, “You know, we were all at the airport waving at your plane as you took off.” “How?” I asked. “Well, everybody gave me two kina each to buy petrol and we all sat on top of each other to fit in the bus. Then we all went to the airport to wave you goodbye.” Two kina! Two kina is a lot to them. “JK, we were all waving at your plane until we could not see it in the sky anymore,” Uncle Dikana (the clan chief) also exclaimed over the phone.
So we sat inside the plane unbeknownst of the loving waves that were just outside the airplane windows. We just played the DVD player in our minds of the last 14 days in PNG. Was it really worth spending 2 kina each family to sit cramped in a small bus and stand outside the airport gate in the heat just to wave goodbye to a plane not even knowing if those inside the plane were waving back? Was it worth staying there until the plane became a dot in the sky? Was this really how much the GATers were worth? Was this really what our visit meant to them? What kind of relationship did we really build, how much love did we really have and how much care did we really give?
Maybe just enough... Bamahuta, lukim yu gen.
(Goodbye. We will see you again.)
We were farewelled by the GK villagers by way of traditional face-painting, speeches, bilums, necklaces, and of course, food. Uncle Joe Fish (one of the GK caretakers) told me, “Uncle, sorry we cannot go with you to the airport this time because the bus has no petrol.” I just calmly replied, “That’s ok uncle, we’ll just say goodbye to you all here in the village.” And so we left and embarked the plane and flew off to Sydney with the vibrant memories playing in our minds.
